Façade
by TyeDyeBoogers
Summary: Arthur's expressions juxtaposed with his thoughts. Human names used.


Disclaimer : I do not own Hetalia or any affiliated Characters.

A/N: This is my first Hetalia peice, first FRUK piece at that. So I'd appreciate feedback. I hope you like it.

The sharp aromatic steam filled the air with the spicy scent of tea. The tea bag tag fluttering against the side of the cup with the the cooling stream of air blown across the top of the steaming liquid.

Arthur breathed in the aroma of morning and cracked a smile. The corners of his lips turning up slightly. His eyes burned sleepily, blinking slowly he sipped at his tea.

The combination of the scent and the spreading of the caffeine in the silence of morning seeped a lovely calmness into his very bones. The quiet chirp of the birds and the distant sounds of civilization only a soft background music to the morning.

The large glass doors looked out on the lush garden. The little flickering spots of color darted around the flowers as the faeries played. Arthur chuckled to himself as he watched them, enjoying their vivacity.

Placing his empty cup with a little chink on the counter he wrapped his deep blue dressing gown tighter about himself as the water set on to boil.

There was a whisper of movement then warm hands slid about his waist. His little smile broadened momentarily before it was forced into a scowl.

"Must you always be so clingy?" He growled at his groper as the tiered whistle of the kettle interrupted. His new cup of tea was his reason to disengage the arms and escape, never mind the fact that he never actually want to leave their comforting warmth, warmth that sank into his heart. Arthur brushed past the counter a discreet finger flicking on the dread machine.

That absurd chortle sounded through out the kitchen. The bubbling sound of the coffee machine percolating worked in the background shattering the peaceful quiet of before. (Arthur had never thought a morning sounded better but if you ever were to ask him he'd probably kill you before ever admitting it.)

Arthur scowled fiercely at the satin clad broad shoulders. The muscles under flexing so nicely as the hands busied at coffee. The messy little ponytail of hair hastily pulled back was distractingly sexy. Arthur bit his lip.

The scowl was back in place by the time the other had turned around. The gentle aroma of the tea being completely taken over by the sharp tang of coffee. Much like the way Arthur himself always felt so taken over by the other's prescence. The way his eyes so very blue enraptured Arthur's, the way his scent permeates the air so intoxicatingly, the way his very essence enveloped Arthur. Arthur, scowled to hide just how much he wanted to reach out and feel those shoulders move under his fingers, he studiously ignored the way the satin robe draped open to reveal golden skin and low slung sleep pants pulled on carelessly. Just like Arthur was ignoring the way this full pink lips caressed the lip of the mug as he sipped coffee. Arthur was most definitely not thinking about what else they could be wrapped around. Certainly not if the look on his face belied anything.

"Oh sourcils, you always look so angry." He laughed.

"Why do you have to ruin such a good morning, Frog?" Arthur shot back sharply, his insides turning to jelly.

"Careful, it'll get stuck like that."

The fingers that brushed his eyebrows light as faerie kisses certainly did not make his heart stop, or flutter furiously. The touch most definitely did not make his body tingle.

Catching himself Arthur jerked back away from the touch trying to ignore the pained look that flashed across that handsome face. Arthur swirled away stalking into the other room. His hands settled on the back of the sofa, fingers clenching in the rough upholstery. His breath hissed out between his teeth. No point in changing what has always been, Arthur hung his head. Sometimes he really hated himself, but sometimes there was no way he'd ever give the Frog the satisfaction of winning. Not allowing the Frog to effect him was his defence.

The warm press of a body to his back and the slip of arms about his waist broke him from his thoughts.

"You never change, Arthur." The voice was amused. The warm press of lips against the nape of his neck made his stomach give a giddy little flip.

"I hate you, Francis." He murmured revelling in the feel of this lips over his neck.

"I love you too, Cher." The air filled with that absurd laughter.

Then there were the times in which he just let's go. His body working with out thought as he turned round to press his lips feverishly against the torturous pair before him.

And maybe it isn't so bad to let go of the façade.


End file.
